Coeruleus
by Convenient Alias
Summary: There was a little voice that constantly whispered in the back of Loki's head, telling him to do things he knew he wasn't supposed to do. Because he was supposed to follow Thanos' orders. Rebellion and questioning his master were not a part of that plan. Mind control fic.
1. Chapter 1

There was a little voice that constantly whispered in the back of Loki's head, telling him to do things he knew he wasn't supposed to do.

Stumbling through the portal to retrieve the Tesseract, it was especially loud. It wanted nothing to do with the Tesseract. "_He'll only take it from you_," it hissed. "_And use you again. Why do you want to help him? Aren't you supposed to be the proud son of Odin?_"

But Loki's allegiance to the house of Asgard and Odin was long spent. He hissed back at the voice, warning it to shut up. Mostly mentally, but he thought a little bit of the hiss escaped through his lips, and he wasn't even sure if that part was him speaking to the voice or gasping out of pain. There had been so very much pain lately. He gripped the staff harder. The staff made it go away. The pain, even the voice a little. If he just focused enough on the staff, everything went away.

There were voices around him, yelling, angry, some even afraid. Good. People were supposed to be afraid of him, after all. Wasn't that right?

And then they were attacking him. Guns, knives, useless Midgardian weaponry. All pointless against Loki. He didn't care about them, or the wounds they might inflict on his body. It was easy enough, for the first few attacks, to block and dodge.

"_That's enough_," the voice whispered. "_You don't have to kill them. They're just defending what's theirs. They're harmless, anyways. Midgardians were never able to hurt you_."

But his mind was swelling with a bright blue urge, almost like lightning in its intensity. Kill. Kill. Kill.

The voice was just irritating, after all.

Six warriors dead, before he stopped to think. And when he stopped to think, he was holding the hand of another warrior, one with a sharp gaze and a gun in the very hand Loki was holding (though at this angle, he would have been hard pressed to shoot Loki now). This was the one who had tried to protect the master of all these warriors, the one with the eye patch, showing him to the ground to avoid Loki's lethal energy blasts. Until a couple months ago, Loki would have done the same to protect Odin.

Loki had been misguided, of course, toiling under a man who had never been his father, had never loved him. This man was the same. Still...

"You have heart," he said.

He lifted his staff. Clarity. That was what it offered to him. He would give that clarity to this warrior as well. He could be generous. He was going to be a king soon (why, how, he was not sure but something made him certain of it) and kings were supposed to be kind. Not like Odin, who hoarded away his treasures and kept his secrets and refused to share even with those he claimed to love.

The blue spread through the warrior's body. Loki smiled down at him. This was benevolence.

The warrior smiled back up at him. The blue had spread to his eyes.

They were still holding hands and Loki found it easy to pull the warrior to his feet. "What's your name, warrior?" he asked him.

"Clint Barton, sir. Codename Hawkeye," the warrior said.

Loki nodded. Names were important. There were those who would have thought the question a waste of time at this point, but Loki was not one of them. Names held power over you. The name of Odinson, for instance, had been bondage for him for a very long time, a bondage now shed. Laufeyson could have been his name once too, but he did not associate himself with that monster. And now he was nothing but Loki, a name Odin had given him as an Aesir prince but that he had appropriated for his use as he saw fit.

"My hawk," he told the warrior. "You will be first among my warriors. There is great heart in you." He recognized this hawk, now. He had done research on those that followed this man named Fury, and the name Clint Barton had come up once or twice. A worthy warrior, as Loki had thought himself.

Loki needed more than one warrior though, so he went about gathering more to follow him among the agents still alive and present.

The voice was displeased. "_You would put others under the same slavery as yourself? Wake up, Loki! What are you doing? Kill them if you wish, but leave their minds free. This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong. This is wrong_."

The voice knew nothing. Loki was not enslaving the men. He was granting them enlightenment. They would be his chosen few, the ones to truly follow him. The Chitauri, yes, they would come later. But the Chitauri were monsters. Monsters like Laufey. Loki licked his lips. "_They should all die_." No. They were his master's honored servants, higher in his favor than Loki himself. "_You hate them_."

The man with the eye patch was talking, now. Trying to get away with the Tesseract. "_You don't want the Tesseract anyways_."Trying to keep things under control. Loki was the one in control now, and Fury was a fool.

"I am Loki of Asgard," he said. Perhaps his name would help the fool to understand. "And I am burdened with glorious purpose."

Burdened? He was sure he had not meant to say burdened. Gifted, entrusted, graced. Thanos (his master's name still hurt in his head, and he shuddered to think it) had done him honor, giving him this task. Burdened was the voice's word. He was listening to it too much.

"_Your word, Loki_."

Ignore, ignore, ignore.

Fury didn't get it. He didn't understand Loki's vision, Loki's dream of freedom, the gift he had given the agents and the gift he was going to give the world. (His master only wanted him to do good, things after all. All these commands, the fetching of the Tesseract, opening the portal for the Chitauri, they were all for the best.)

"Freedom is life's great lie," Loki informed Fury. But he could tell the man wasn't listening. Yet another convinced of his own importance, unable to see the beauty and simplicity of bending to another's will.

He gave clarity to Selvig instead. Thor had spoken well of Selvig's mind, and Loki needed other minds to help him with his plans, his glorious plans. Especially with the way his own mind seemed to betray him lately, twisting first one way and then the next.

And then he and his new warriors were leaving the facility. He was glad to leave that place. It was suffocating, with all that rock and metal around him. It prevented him from teleporting in or out, the reason he had needed the portal in the first place. And now it seemed that all the rock would be crashing down on them soon, crushing the breath out of their lungs. But it was all right. He would get out and he would bring all of his agents out with him. Loki took care of what was his.

"_There are the other agents. Hundreds of them. How many of them will die now, Loki, because of you?"_

That was all right though. Loki already knew he was a monster.

/…/…/

The hawk was a font of overflowing information. Loki listened to all of it attentively. He learned about SHIELD (his hawk's former employer, but that was fine, Barton was his now and eager to prove it), about Nick Fury (a hard man, hard to cross in particular, but still in so many ways an idealist), about Phil Coulson (one of the best agents the hawk had ever met, and one of the hawk's best friends), and Natasha Romanoff (not only an amazing agent, but a beautiful, stunning woman who used to be the hawk's enemy and he was so glad that she wasn't anymore).

Natasha was apparently lovely but fast tempered, and yet in control of her every word and action beyond even Barton's level of control. The deadliest woman he had ever met, too. And she had made some mistakes in life but changed her ways, and now was fiercely loyal to SHIELD and to Barton himself, and desperate to prove it. "_Constantly trying to prove herself a worthy warrior, Loki? Does that remind you of a certain woman you know?_" Loki wasn't going to think about Sif, though. That was a life he had left behind.

Loki also learned about "The Avengers' Initiative."

A group of warriors, apparently, the greatest in the realm, all American because even though SHIELD was an international organization, it had been founded in America and was most focused there. Barton gave Loki the details on each prospective member, answering every question Loki had, sometimes even before he thought to ask them.

"You have done well," Loki told the hawk when he paused for breath. "Rest, now."

"Done well?" the hawk asked. There was a hint of confusion in his lovely blue eyes. "I have done nothing, master. Why should I rest?"

"You brought me safely out of that SHIELD rock trap," Loki said. "And now you have told me all that I could wish to know about our enemies. You rank your deeds too low. Now, rest. There will be tasks for you later." He considered telling Barton, as well, to call him Loki rather than master. No one had ever called Loki master before, and he didn't really like it. But he held his tongue. It was only fitting for the hawk to show him respect. And Loki was his master, after all, even if the term was strange to his ear.

"I don't need rest," Barton said. Which was a lie. His entire body was shaking already, and Loki had no idea how long it had been since his hawk had slept, but it had least been the twelve hours since they had escaped the SHIELD base. "I do not think I will ever need to sleep again." His eyes glistened.

Oh. Of course, the staff. "The staff's power will give you a certain momentum to keep going until your tasks are completed, but there is nothing for you to do now, my hawk. And you are a mortal. You need your sleep. Else the staff will suck every scrap of vigor from your flesh."

The hawk hesitated. "I can sleep later."

For a man under the control of the staff (the enlightenment, the clarity, not the control) he was disregarding Loki's wishes a surprising amount. "My hawk," Loki said sharply. "You will sleep. Now."

"As you wish, master," Barton sighed.

The warehouse that was Loki's hideout did not have beds. Loki cared about the comfort of his hawk, though, and it was a simple enough matter to turn one of the boxes into a luxurious four post bed with green and gold sheets.

"Isn't that overkill?" the hawk asked, squinting at the bed.

"Just sleep."

He got the other agents to sleep too. None but Selvig protested the order and even Selvig only slightly. Barton was different for some reason. Loki didn't know why. He wasn't sure he wanted to know why.

Loki liked Barton. He liked his hawk.

The voice liked the hawk too, so that was one matter on which it and Loki agreed. But it still whispered foolish things. Saying Loki should set the hawk free. "_What is the worth, Loki, of a hawk in a cage? Release his mind. If you would be generous, that is true generosity. He must have his freedom to go where he chooses. Do you think his eagerness is real? The staff compels him, else he would not care for you. Give up your delusions, Loki. Face the truth_."

It was the voice that was deluded, not Loki. What the staff showed him, what Thanos showed him, that was the truth. All else was useless complication. And Loki loved his clarity. Giving it to his hawk was a true gift.

"_Clinging to an enslaved man because no sane man would stay with you. How the mighty fall. Look up, Prince Loki, and see what you used to be. Maybe the hawk would even like what you used to be. No one could help but despise you now_."

"The hawk is mine," Loki said. "Mine. You can't take him."

The voice laughed, echoing in Loki's skull.

"Shut up. Shut up!"

The nearest agent stirred in his sleep. Loki gripped his staff until his palm hurt and even the echoes of laughter were drowned out by a rush of blue.

/.../.../

AN: And so begin the mind control shenanigans. For more of them, by the way, read my story "Having Heart", which is based around the same sort of idea while being entirely different. By the way, this story is as AU as you want it to be. Personally, I dig the whole Loki-was-mind-controlled-all-along theory, so I don't consider it to be terribly AU, at least not yet.

Ah, I like Loki and Clint. I also like Loki being angsty and slightly insane all the time. I also like reviews, so if you'd care to leave one, it would be entirely welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

When Loki was not planning, there was little for him to do.

And the plans were already made within the first night. He talked them over with all the captive (nay, freed from freedom) agents and they all agreed that it might work. It was not a subtle plan, but Loki wanted to taunt the Avengers a little. And he wanted to see what they were capable of personally before he took them on.

After that first night, though, what was there for a Loki to do? He listened to his agents' reports, briefed them on their various tasks, and all the like. But still he had so much time left with nothing to do but think, and the voice in his head got louder and louder and louder, and the staff wouldn't block it out.

_"__You don't want to do this. You don't want to do this. You don't even want to follow Thanos, don't you remember? Don't you remember how you despised him? You never wanted to do this, Loki. Wake up. Fight!"_

"Shut up."

The hawk found him in a corner of the warehouse sitting behind the bed he had conjured for the hawk himself (he had conjured beds for the other agents as well, but not as luxurious), trying desperately to slow his breathing as it sped out of control.

"Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up…"

"Loki," Barton said. "I haven't said anything."

That was the first that Loki noticed of him, and what was wrong with him, that mortals could sneak up on him now? He gave the hawk a wild look (not intentionally wild but he knew it wasn't focused, just like his mind couldn't focus, not with all this idiotic yammering).

"Master," Barton said now, his voice soft and sincere. "Are you all right?"

He bent down and pulled Loki out of his crouch and onto the bed. It was comfortable. Loki had no time for comfort, though. "I'm fine, hawk!"

"Master," Barton said. "Your arm."

Loki glanced down at it. Oh, yes. The voice had been babbling on for hours, and he had tried everything he could think of to make it shut up. Pain had seemed to work better than some methods, better than the staff even. So he had taken one of his smaller knives and scratched small lines across his arm, not deep (Thanos didn't want him hurt badly, he needed his arm) but painful enough to serve as a distraction. They had not been effective for long and he had thrown the knife away, skittering under one of the plainer beds.

Now, his arm was still bleeding, which was strange. Usually the cuts would have closed up by now. He was an Aesir after all (Jotun, actually, but the healing rate was roughly the same). Oh, but his knives did tend to do a bit more damage due to the enchantments on them. How inconvenient. (Ironic, usually they were very convenient indeed.)

"_How low you've fallen, prince. Now the enemy you fight is only yourself. Look up to Asgard. But then, you weren't exactly happy there either_."

"Shut up."

"Master, I know a little bit about cleaning and bandaging wounds and cuts. If you'll roll your sleeve up a bit further…"

How unprofessional, really to have the sleeves of his robe rolled up like this. The robes of a conqueror, they were supposed to be (Thanos had said) but he didn't look anything like a conqueror right now, he knew. Always so pitiful. Always so weak. "_Wouldn't have fallen for Thanos' trickery if you weren't so weak, would you?_"

"I don't need your help," he snarled at the hawk. He didn't need anyone. "My arm will be fine. I'm not as fragile as a mortal."

"Some bandages always help, master."

"I'll get the staff," Loki said. Already he felt a longing for it, a twitch in his hands. "It will make everything feel better. I will heal."

He made to get up, but the hawk had clamped a hand on his shoulder. A hand he could easily shake off, true, but instead he raised an eyebrow at him.

"I don't think the staff is helping you," Barton said. "You say it does, but when you hold it you look even more tired. Didn't you tell me that it takes away your strength?"

"I am an immortal."

"Even immortals need rest. Get some now, master. We are managing your business as you have ordered, and you have some hours before you will be needed again."

"_Not needed, not needed. No one needs you, Loki. You are nothing_."

Loki gritted his teeth. "I will stay awake." He didn't want to sleep. Sleep never ended well these days.

"Just let me treat your arm, okay?"

Barton was the most rebellious man Loki had ever met. It seemed that even the staff did not bring him the clarity it had brought to Loki. He still had to quibble over the smallest things.

Loki still liked him. So he indulged his hawk's request and allowed him to wash and bandage his arm. Not that it was needed. The cuts would be healed by morning with nary a scar to show they were ever there. But he felt cleaner with the blood wiped off his arm (even though he was still dirty, he knew that, the blood in his veins was still Jotun) and the white cloth felt good against his skin and for a moment the voice was silent.

"Barton," Loki said. "You are good." It felt wrong to say it like that. Shouldn't it be, "You did a good job" or if necessary "You are a good servant"? But that wasn't quite what Loki wanted to say.

"Now lie down and rest, master."

And he did.

/…/…/

Loki knew he was dreaming because in real life Asgard was never this happy. He didn't really care.

He was sitting at one of the grand tables in the Great Hall. Sitting next to both Sif and Thor at the same time, which was odd. Thor sometimes did choose to sit next to him often, but never Sif. And the way she was smiling at him…She never looked at him like that. Like they were actually friends.

"_She did it a few times, though. Remember when the six of you used to go on adventures all the time? Sometimes when you healed Thor, she'd smile at you like that. There were times when they would tolerate even your trickery, when you could force them to admit they needed you. Remember that?_"

And Thor sitting next to him, his hair not quite as long as it was now. And he smiled at Loki, warmly, glad to see he was there.

"I miss you brother," he said. "Come back home."

Loki woke up with a swirling blue headache that made him cringe. Barton was still sitting at the edge of his bed. He heard Loki moving, pulling the green blankets off, and glanced over. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Are you okay, master?"

"Stop calling me master," Loki said. He couldn't believe he had dreamed of Asgard again. Why did he still dream of it when he had left it behind? Asgard was nothing to him now. Thor, in particular, was nothing to him now.

"But you are my master," Barton said. "Besides, I thought ancient Asgardians liked that kind of stuff."

Loki scowled at him. Ancient? Perhaps compared to a mortal, but he was nowhere near as old as Odin or Heimdall. And he wasn't an Asgardian either, though that was an entirely different kettle of fish.

"Fine. What am I supposed to call you? Just Loki?"

Loki frowned. "I suppose that would suffice." It felt a lot more natural. Though, back in the day, those beneath him used to call him prince or "your highness", neither of those were appropriate titles anymore. And Barton was his highest servant anyways, so it probably didn't matter.

"I'll work on it," Barton promised. He paused. "Wait, you're just trying to distract me. Are you okay? You woke up suddenly."

"I rarely wake up slowly," Loki said. Which was true enough. It wasn't like he had been having such a terrible dream anyways. Just one which he knew he wasn't supposed to have. "_Because Thanos doesn't want you to be happy. Because Thanos doesn't want to lose his control_."

Loki didn't see much of Barton that day. He sent the hawk on a mission with a few others to retrieve a helicopter, which would come in handy when they had to rescue him from the Helicarrier.

He did talk to Selvig more than a little. The man was building the portal that was going to let the Chitauri in, after all, and there were quite a few things for them to discuss.

Not all of the things they discussed were about the portal, though.

Selvig eventually said, "So you're Thor's brother?"

"No," Loki said. He hoped that would end that line of questioning. But Selvig didn't seem to get the hint (probably the staff had made him dull, although of course it shouldn't have done that. All it should have offered him was clarity, and that made a man more intelligent, really). Instead he started to look perplexed.

He asked, "So you're a different Loki of Asgard?"

"No. I am the same Loki. But I have changed." Gloriously changed, all the clumsy loyalties and complications in him peeled away to reveal his inner strengths, his purer self.

"_No. Not a purer self. What you are now, Loki…This isn't you_."

It was though. Loki knew this was what he was meant to be all along.

"I can tell you've changed," Selvig said. He was frowning down at a sheet of calculations. Loki knew he would be able to solve it as soon as he gave it his full attention, which would hopefully be soon. "Thor described you rather differently to us, even if you did end up sending that robot thing."

Loki nodded. Surely the change from submissive princeling to aggressive conqueror should be obvious. "_Don't you mean the change from stable to mind controlled and insane?_"

"But," Selvig continued. "That doesn't mean you aren't still brothers. Thor loves you. I could tell from the way he talked about you. When he did talk about you."

"Which I am sure was not much," Loki said. It was implied in Selvig's words and it was the truth. Thor rarely thought of Loki even when he was around, ignoring his advice and his presence as easily as he forced Loki to stand in his shadow. And on Earth, Thor had been involved in his marvelous journey of inner change, so of course he would have had little time to think of his pitiful younger brother.

"Well, yes," Selvig admitted. He had given up on defending Thor in that way, at least. "But he still loves you. And you are bonded to him by blood. Doesn't that mean anything to you? I thought that was important to the Aesir."

Oh, yes. Blood would tell, wouldn't it? But what Loki was now was not a manifestation of his Jotun nature. The staff (Thanos, Thanos, his master and his savior from the Void) had lifted him above all that, made him more. "_You were already more. He dragged you down_."

"I am not of Thor's blood," Loki said. If there was ever an understatement… "Odin adopted me when I was a baby. I owe Thor nothing."

"There is a bond formed by years of living as brothers, if not by blood."

Loki frowned at Selvig. He was careful to do no more than tighten his lips and raised an eyebrow, even though he wanted to bear his teeth, scream in Selvig's face. "You are on my side now, not Thor's. Cease trying to defend him." Loki wanted nothing to do with Thor anymore.

"It would be good for you too."

"Keep your mouth shut and figure out those calculations."

"Yes, master."

It didn't bother Loki when Selvig called him master like it bothered him with Barton. He wasn't sure why. Well, he didn't like Selvig the way he liked Barton. And the way he kept talking about Thor even though he served Loki now made it hard for Loki to trust him. Why weren't his servants granted the same sort of clarity that he had obtained under Thanos?

"_You call this clarity, Loki? You're more confused than ever_."

The only unclear thing was the voice, and it needed to shut up.

/.../.../

AN: And so the blue madness continues. Clint's a good subordinate. Loki's messed up. What else is new? Reviews would be much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

The voice did not like Loki stabbing someone in the eye. This, however, made him all the more eager to do it. Besides, it was entirely necessary. He needed that eye for his hawk to unlock the iridium container, and he needed the iridium to make his portal function. Besides, he needed to cause some chaos in order to attract the Avengers' attention. It was about time he met his antagonists.

And if he took a moment to make everyone around him kneel, well, he had been working hard for the past couple weeks. It was about time he got to do something enjoyable.

It was easy to justify it, too. He was going to be their king soon, so they needed to learn to respect him. Besides, it would help to get the Avengers' attention…and their ire.

"You crave subjugation," he told the crowd. And wasn't that the truth? Not just of humanity (he would make it about Midgardians for now, feed their egos, but that was just a bit of a taunt) but for all the sentient races. No one wanted choices. No one wanted freedom. Freedom was scary. It meant making mistakes, making people hate you, always scrambling to try to make yourself better and always failing because you could never measure up to their expectations of you. It meant being cast adrift. It meant pain.

Far easier to bow your head, bend your neck, let someone take the control out of your hands and submit. Loki had learned that the hard way. For hundreds of years he had fought to be his own man, to be different from the Aesir (learning sorcery, learning manipulation, learning diplomacy) but still accepted by them. For centuries, he had tried to keep control, to fix all of Thor's mistakes (making peace with lies, smoothing over diplomatic errors), to protect his kingdom and to make people see him as strong. And when had that worked?

Loki had learned the hard way that it was better to throw yourself into the Void, accept what fate might offer. Loki learned that it was better to let Thanos into his mind than to struggle and resist the cool blue influence that guided his every action now. It wasn't just the absence of pain that made him happy, either. It was the surety. He could leave the decisions to Thanos now. He could stop fighting to figure out what was right and just let Thanos make the difficult choices.

"_Laziness, really. Pathetic. Maybe you weren't happy when you tried to resist Thanos, but you were right_." Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Loki had learned the hard way that freedom was nothing but pain, but the crowd he could teach the easy way. They moved to bow to him now out of fear, but when he conquered the world they would understand that his intentions were only good (just like Thanos' intentions) and that peace was better than constant strife. They would learn to relish in bowing, to take joy in submitting to his majesty.

And then one man refused to kneel. Saying some idiocy about not kneeling to men like Loki.

Loki only planned to teach him a lesson. The blue bolt wouldn't have killed him, even if it might have left him half paralyzed for life. In the end he couldn't even teach that lesson because some idiot in a red, white and blue suit (Captain America, his brain supplied) jumped in the way and knocked him to the ground.

And the lesson had been going so well. "_Effective, maybe, but not what you should have been teaching in the first place_."

It was all according to plan, though. So he condescended to spar with this Captain America (Steve Rogers was his real name, the hawk had said) until the man of iron arrived with an arrogant song playing in the background. The sort of song Thor would have used for his entrances if Asgard possessed the technology. Loki thanked the Norns that they didn't. Thor was arrogant enough. (Even the voice agreed on that one.)

He let the illusion he had cast around himself, the image of a horned helmet, shimmer and fade, though he kept his Asgardian robes. And he held his hands up unthreateningly. Let the human think Loki was defeated. He would see how wrong he was in the end.

"_Oh, you are defeated, though. Just not by any mortal named Tony Stark_."

Loki ignored the voice. It never said anything relevant.

He thought to get to the helicarrier at once, to meet the rest of these Avengers and perhaps the spider his hawk was always talking about. That had been the plan.

And then the thunder and lightning.

Rogers found it amusing that he was afraid of thunder.

"I'm not particularly fond of what follows," he told the mortal. Which was the truth. He wasn't afraid of Thor, he just had a feeling that his brother would not be in a friendly mood after their altercation on Asgard. And besides, he hated Thor now. Despised him. Certainly didn't want to see him.

The voice whispered, "_Does it make you feel sick trying to ignore the anticipation in your blood?_"

It wasn't anticipation. It was aversion. Loki didn't want to see Thor. That would be ridiculous.

Thor came crashing into the helicopter (he really enjoyed his dramatic entrances), grabbed Loki liked he was a sack of potatoes and jumped right back out of the helicopter with him.

He still liked the dramatic entrance, then. Always the same, Thor, even when he claimed he had changed, had grown more humble. And grabbing Loki so forcefully…That felt familiar too. Perhaps Thor had not been so hostile to Loki before, but he had never asked his opinion before dragging him off to join in some adventure or other.

Now, they swooped straight down to the ground, where Thor dumped Loki onto a rock. It took Loki a moment to right his balance and sit up in a more dignified position.

"Where is the Tesseract?"

Loki waited for the voice to express the opinion that Loki should tell Thor where the Tesseract is. Instead, it sounded slightly annoyed as it said, "_Well, he's as rude as ever. Not even a hello for the brother who tried to kill himself?_" And Loki found that he thought the exact same thing. Love Thor or hate him (and yes, Loki hated him to the point of combusting due to the heat of his hatred) he had some noticeable flaws, the most noticeable one being his manners, and the way he took Loki for granted.

"_He does try_," the voice muttered. Even it didn't sound too convinced.

Loki laughed. If that was the best the voice could do he would soon be rid of it. "I missed you too, brother," he said to Thor. Wait. Not his brother. That last part he should have left off.

"_You did miss him, though. Remember how you screamed for him in the Void, and when Thanos tunneled his way through your mental guards? You did miss him. You love him, Loki. There is no reason to deny that_."

Even if Loki loved Thor (which he didn't, anymore), that didn't change the fact that it was clear Thor held not an iota of affection for Loki in return.

"Do I look to be in a gaming mood?" Thor said.

Of course. Because missing Loki could only ever be a joke to Thor. Loki laughed again. He didn't care if it came out hysterical. "_It's only Thor anyways. He's already seen you at your worst_." After all this time, perhaps some part of him had still hoped that seeing his family again would make everything better, that everything could go back to normal. The voice always seemed to hope that could happen, at least. And the voice was a part of him, though not precisely that part, he didn't think. (Exactly what part it was he wasn't sure, and he didn't want to think about that anyways.)

But things with Thor…Loki had been a fool to think that they could ever be loving brothers again. A fool to think they had ever been loving brothers in the first place. Now, with Thor in front of him, it was clear what a misconception that was.

And now Thor seemed perplexed. Probably he had been expecting some sort of witty response, the kind Loki always gave. But Loki didn't owe Thor that kind of effort. All he wanted was for Thor to be gone from his sight and not to be caught up in his older brother's games again. (And Thor claimed he didn't play games, but wasn't it always bait and switch, ask Loki's advice and then ignore him, ask for Loki's help and then laugh at his abilities, seek Loki out on a different realm only to demand the Tesseract rather than speak to him personally.)

"I have nothing to say to you, Thor."

"I thought you dead!" Thor shouted. As if the volume of his reply would somehow make it more significant.

Loki wished he were dead. No, of course he didn't, what was he thinking? He had a glorious purpose to fulfill, serving Thanos. He wanted to live and keep on fighting for his master, even if all his own desires were already lost. "_Face it, Loki. You're dead already_."

"Did you mourn?" he asked Thor. It made him genuinely curious. He knew the answer, though. No matter what Thor claimed, he never cared about Loki.

"_How can you say that? He cried for you before, don't you remember? When you got injured on your quests together and there was no one to heal you because you were the healer? And he protected you in battle. Of course he cares_."

Thor seemed to agree with the voice. He could apparently delude himself into believing what he felt for Loki was actual love. He made some idiotic claims about Loki still being family. Well, Loki would set those straight.

"We were never family," he said. "It was always just me cowering in your shadow, struggling to be your equal. And you always with your back turned no matter how hard I tried. When I fell into the abyss, you were happy to watch."

"I was dangling above it myself!"

"_He does have a point_."

"Odin always loved you more," Loki continued, ignoring Thor and the voice. "If he loved me at all. And he would never have wanted a Jotun on the throne. But I am suited to be a king, even if he could never see it. And now, I will be."

"If you think to become a king through the slaughter of innocents, then you will make a poor one," Thor said. Typical for him to focus on the part that involved Midgard.

"I'll hardly be slaughtering innocents. When the Chitauri arrive, the bloodshed will be kept to a minimum. I don't expect the battle to last very long," Loki said.

"_That's what Thanos told you, but you know he worships Death. He lies_."

"Besides," Loki added. "What can be accomplished without a few sacrifices? These mortals need guidance, and it's clear they won't accept it willingly. Clinging to their illusion of freedom while they scramble to survive. Isn't it a pitiful sight?"

Thor's grip on Mjolnir tightened. Of course it angered him, now, to hear someone speak ill of Midgard. After his oh so life changing experience here. Before he would have agreed with Loki, and he would have been right.

"You come home, Loki!" Thor said. Not even bothering to argue with how pitiful mankind was, apparently. "You give up these empty dreams! Listen to me…"

Loki did wonder, and would wonder for years to come, what Thor would have said next. It probably wouldn't have been very interesting. In any case, Loki never found out, because that was the moment that Stark chose to swoop out of the sky and knock Thor into an entirely separate part of the woods.

"I'm listening," Loki said with a laugh. Even if he knew no one could hear him, it had been a good moment. He would tell the hawk about it later perhaps, when the battling was over and there was time to exchange tales.

"_You think these battles will ever bring you peace?_"

They had to. Because Loki couldn't live with this much frustration and confusion for much longer. Thanos had promised clarity and Loki had gained some, but not enough, not yet. Surely when he had completed his orders, things would be better.

"_Things won't get better until you are free_."

/.../.../

/.../.../

AN: Nanowrimo has come around and is beginning to draw my attention to other projects (varied, I'm not focusing on any single one this year). Luckily, I have a few chapters prewritten, so you won't be waiting forever for your updates. Don't worry.

From this point on, the plot will begin to change a bit more...This story is, after all, AU, if you hadn't been able to tell that yet. Oh, and reviews are always appreciated. See you on the flip of the flop!


	4. Chapter 4

Not long after that, the mortals were taking Loki up to the helicarrier again. It had a lovely cage. Meant for the Hulk, of course, but Loki was still flattered that they used it for him. Well. Flattered and insulted at the same time, more like. He was flattered that they had put him in the strongest cage they possessed, trying not to underestimate him. He was insulted because they underestimated him nonetheless. Did they honestly think any glass cage, no matter how strong or well engineered, could keep Loki inside? It wasn't like there was anything to stop him from just teleporting out. There were no walls of rock around after all. Just air. A cage in the air would never be able to imprison Loki.

"_No, you need some skill with mind control to do that_."

He stood in the direct center of the cage at first, appraising its various glass walls and metal rivets. Yes, Midgardians had a way with architecture and design. When he took over, he would have them build him a castle entirely of their style and design, with no Aesir or Jotun elements about it, a castle fitting for the ruler of this realm. But that day was far away, and in the meantime there was much to do.

The mortals all took their turns in approaching him. Of course, the only one who did it with any skill was the spider. And she had an advantage already. He was more interested in her than in the others because of what his hawk had said. It seemed she was little like Sif after all, but still a worthy opponent.

Different from Sif first of all because she snuck up on him. He did not notice her presence approaching until she was already there, standing right outside his cage. Sif never hid her presence. She had to make herself noticeable or the court would have found it all too easy to discount her as just another silly woman trying to play warrior but still standing in the shadows of her male comrades.

Loki appreciated Natasha's stealthy approach, though, because he had always appreciated stealth more than most Aesir. Not that he hadn't been expecting her to show up eventually.

She said, "I want to know what you've done to Agent Barton."

Loki wanted to smile at that (oh look, the spider really did care) and snarl at it at the same time. Why was it that she seemed to assume he had harmed the hawk? He had not the slightest desire to do so, and he took very good care of things that were his. Honestly.

He replied with dignity. "I would say I've expanded his mind. Shown him the truth of things. Set him free." He'd done nothing to Barton's mind that had not already been done to his own mind, so it certainly wasn't anything terrible.

"_Because Thanos hasn't harmed you at all_."

But there was no reason to explain all that to an enemy. He was pretty sure even the hawk himself hadn't picked up on Thanos' influence on Loki.

Natasha shook her head. He didn't know if she was disagreeing with what he said (without even knowing the facts) or if it was a subconscious denial that the hawk no longer belonged to her and SHIELD, no longer fit into their little box.

She said, "And once you've won. Once you're king of the mountain. What happens to his mind?"

It was clear that the woman still considered Loki's influence on Barton to be evil. Her own mind was stll closed. Loki wished he had his staff with him so he could pry it open and let her see the truth of things. He wasn't trying to hurt anybody. And servitude only meant greater freedom and peace in the end.

"_If you say it enough times, you might even believe it. And then maybe I would disappear. But not any time soon, I don't think_."

"I will allow Barton to maintain his clarity, most likely," Loki said. "He's earned that much with his services so far." He knew that if Thanos were to strip him of the staff's influence now, it would tear him apart and he would be left as wild and desperate as he was before Thanos gave him his…help. He would not inflict that kind of pain on his hawk.

"_There was a time when you preferred freedom to comfort. You were right_."

"Clarity," Natasha said. Her face was still blank, unemotional. Another way she was different from Sif, who would get angry at Loki with less on the line. "You mean enslavement."

"What's in a word?" Loki asked. He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Your lover doesn't suffer."

"He's not my lover," Natasha said. "I don't love him."

Her lips had tightened just the tiniest bit. But Loki always paid attention to details, and he knew he wasn't likely to get more than that from her to indicate her lie.

He pretended he bought it. "Oh, but Barton would be very disappointed to hear you say that. He's clearly in love with you. He told me all about it. All about you. But I don't really see what had him so fascinated."

That was a lie: he did, in a way.

"I want you to free him," the woman said.

"Why? Since you aren't in the least in love with him." It was amusing to see someone so in denial. "_What, like you're in denial about being enslaved by a monster and forced to attack an entire realm?_"

"I've got red in my ledger," Natasha said. "I want to wipe it out."

It was a lie, at least partially. But she said it convincingly enough that it was probably at least partially true, and that made Loki mad.

"You think this is a way to make up for your past?" he said slowly. He allowed his lips to stretch into a smile, showing his teeth. "You think there is a way to wipe out that much red? And remember, Barton told me everything. You think after the hospital, after Drakov's daughter, you can be forgiven? Your ledger isn't stained with red, little spider. It's dripping. It overflows."

At some point he had ended up standing up. He wasn't sure when. He didn't remember standing. He didn't remember when he had started yelling either. But that didn't matter. He didn't need to stop.

And the voice talked over him, saying, "_As if your ledger is clean_." But at least he wasn't deluded enough to think he could be saved.

"You're like a child at prayer!" He yelled. "Do you think you've changed? You're still killing! You're still lying!"

"_Says the murderer and liar_."

"You think things change just because you're working for someone new? Do you think it makes it any better that you're working for a cause?"

"_And Thanos says it's all right when you kill for him. Not that you have a choice_."

"What you do is a part of you! You can't get rid of it with a code! You can't think of it as something separate! Your horrors are a part of you!"

"_Remember the blue creeping over your skin when you first touched a Jotun… and you realized just how filthy you were… even though you had been filthy all along? Even though you were a killer and a liar all along? You monster_."

"Shut up!" He screamed. But no, the horrors never shut up, the thoughts you tried to shut away never really disappeared, and even when you chased them with blue light they just hid in the shadows. "You can't change! You are a monster! There is no way to change that!"

The woman was gaping now. And just a few minutes ago he'd been mentally praising her for subtlety. A distant part of his mind was taking points off for losing her composure, but then, he was hardly one to speak.

He hissed out at her, "You have freely chosen evil again and again and again. And as long as you have choice, as long as you have freedom, you will always fail. You will never be good. You will never be free of the monsters and the horrors and you will commit more and more and more."

"You will never lose your guilt."

"_And you thought you had lost yours_."

Natasha whispered, "You're right." She sounded wrecked. But her back was to Loki. He couldn't see her face.

Perhaps that was better. "_You couldn't face seeing your hawk's lover broken_."

"Of course I'm right," Loki hissed. "Peace is slavery. Peace is knowing someone else has the controls. I know that now and I showed that to Barton. Someday you'll know that too."

Natasha's back stiffened and then relaxed. And then she swung around to face Loki, and her face was perfectly calm.

She said, "I think I get a little of it now."

But it was obvious that she hadn't bought Loki's philosophy. Her face was just a bit too smug in her calm.

Loki said, "What?"

He was never ashamed to admit when he was confused. And the lady spider made him curious. Just when he thought he understood her, it appeared that she had been playing him all along.

"Thank you for your cooperation," Natasha said.

She left the room as silently as she had entered it, even though Loki was aware enough now to watch her go.

/…/…/

Despite the cage's original elegance, Loki began to chafe under his confinement.

The glass, which was convenient to look out, was not completely clear. If Loki didn't stare through it, he could see his own hazy reflection on the sides. And while he tried to ignore it (he hadn't enjoyed looking on his own reflection for years, never mind recently), the voice found it extremely interesting.

_"Look at you. Such a pretty little monster, aren't you?"_

Loki wasn't even sure which offended him more, the monster part or the pretty part. He was a warrior, and he was going to be a hero, the savior of this world. He did not need to take such belittling. The voice had no right to say such things.

_"If anyone has a right to speak against you, it's yourself."_

But the voice wasn't him, couldn't be him.

_"Look at yourself, Loki. See the sunken eyes? Look closer and you'll see the madness. But even the mortals can see that. Now look closer. Stare into them. Can you see Thanos there? I can see him. Clear as a day of blue skies."_

Loki realized he was, indeed, staring into the eyes of his reflection and with a snarl, he jerked his head away (ignoring the way the snarl distorted the reflection, made it bestial, vicious, unbearably sharp). There was nothing worth seeing in his own face. There was nothing about himself he did not know.

_"Are you sure, Loki? You didn't know you were a Jotun either."_

He knew that now. He knew what he was. He was a Jotun, the lowest of the low. He was Thanos's servant, and he was getting better, and one day he would be the prince and the hero he always considered himself before. Thanos had promised it. (Soft whispers in his ears to temper the torture, telling Loki everything he could be, if he would only let Thanos in.) Thanos would keep his promise.

_"As if."_

He was glad when Clint arrived with Loki's men (his servants, anyways).

He knew they arrived by the sounds. He heard shouts and explosions, thuds and bangs. Chaos on the helicarrier. He grinned, sitting against the wall of his glass cage. Saw his reflection and didn't even care. He loved chaos. He ruled chaos. And this chaos, this had been his design all along. At last, after the days of slow preparation and listening to the voice's doubts and trying to please Thanos, he was in his own element. The explosions and the screams were music, and he lifted himself from the floor where he sat and swayed back and forth to the rhythm of insanity.

He had to go, he knew. He had to leave the cage, find his men and the helicopter, get out of this idiotic aircraft to initiate the next phase of his plan. He walked up to the door of his cage. Closed, locked by a computer mechanism. Charming.

He muttered a few words, snapped his fingers (that part wasn't even necessary, but it did add a certain flair) and teleported to the room outside the cage. Time to go.

Footsteps, then. Thor's footsteps. Loki would have recognized them anywhere, the way he thudded and pounded across a floor like a veritable bilgesnipe.

It would be easy enough to deal with him. Loki wouldn't even need to get original. A simple illusion would be enough. He opened the doors to the cage (there was a mechanism that did that, right next to the button that would send it plunging to the ground) and cast an image of himself, sauntering out of the cage just as Thor came rushing into the room.

Thor didn't notice the real Loki, crouched in shadows. Loki had known he wouldn't. But he saw the fake Loki and was instantly panicked. "No!"

Oh, this was ridiculous. Had Thor honestly thought the cage would hold Loki in the first place? Loki could understand the Midgardians being so foolish, but his brother ("_I thought you weren't his brother, Loki_") should have known better.

And in the same way, he should have known better than to run straight at the illusion and end up trapping himself in the glass cage.

"Are you ever not going to fall for that?" Loki asked.

Thor glared at him. He always thought Loki's tricks were not equal to his own brutish methods of fighting. But Loki would never stand around to be captured when a little trickery could solve his problems.

"Do you like my cage?" Loki asked. "If you look at the right angle, you can see your reflection in the glass." Thor, after all, had never despised his own appearance the way Loki did. Perhaps he would find it amusing.

Thor hefted Mjolnir and slammed it against the glass. Loki winced back, prepared to teleport away from a spray of shards. He should have seen this one coming.

But the glass didn't break. A small spiderweb of cracks spread where Mjolnir had hit it, but it remained intact.

Loki felt flattered that the Midgardians had put him in such a strong cage. Useless precautions against a sorcerer of Loki's ability, but still a compliment. And it made one think about how strong the one they called the Hulk must be, to have such a powerful prison available for it.

He couldn't waste time on thought, though. It might eventually penetrate Thor's thick head that what one hit failed to accomplish, a barrage of strikes might yet achieve. He had to act fast. He walked over to the control panel and smirked at Thor. It was always nice to see the arrogant brought down a notch.

"_It's only natural. Even Thanos took pleasure in watching you scream_."

"Step away, please."

The voice that spoke was not his voice. But Loki recognized it, and when he turned it was as he thought. The placid agent, the one with the face that always remained even calmer than Nick Fury's or Natasha's. He smiled at the agent. It was always nice to meet someone who could act with such composure while pointing a strangely shaped gun at someone who was trying to kill their friend by means of helicarrier ejection (which probably wouldn't kill Thor anyways, but it was worth finding out).

"I said step away," the agent repeated. Loki wished he could remember the man's name.

He stepped back with his hands up. Playing the conquered, again, like in Stuttgart. Let the man calm down a bit. Soon Loki's hawk would arrive (he could still feel his presence like a tug) and he would have backup. Backup that Loki felt sure this agent would hesitate to attack, considering they had once been comrades.

"_Getting dependent on your slaves now? They have to show up and bail you out every time a mortal gets nervous? How you have degenerated_."

Loki gritted his teeth. The voice mocked him. And it was wrong. He needed no one.

He used teleportation at the same time as he created the illusion that he was still standing in the same place, hands up and listening to the agent describe his apparently formidable weapon. He didn't teleport far-he still had Thor to deal with. He only moved a foot or so behind the agent.

He drew his knife.

"_Oh, stabbing. Your style, of course, to kill all the mortals that stand in your path. After all, Thanos worships Death. And you are but an extension of his will. Go ahead, Loki. Kill him_."

The voice was wrong. Loki was not one to slaughter without thinking.

"_You did it at the SHIELD base. You've been doing so for weeks_."

There hadn't been that many deaths. And at the SHIELD base it had been self defense.

"_Monster_."

Loki stabbed.

He looked down at the puncture wound. The knife had gone straight through the agent. It stuck in his back to the hilt, and poked out the other end, slippery with blood. He hadn't gotten the heart. He wasn't sure that he had been trying to.

The wound was in a tricky place. Loki wasn't sure if it was enough to kill or not.

"_But you hope not, don't you_?"

Loki didn't know what he thought. Collapsing in front of him was a good agent, a man who in Asgard would have been a warrior, who even here was a warrior of a sort. He sank to the floor, still holding his weapon, with little more than a gasp. And in the cage, Thor was screaming.

Screams throughout the ship. Thuds and bangs. Explosions. Suddenly Loki wanted them to stop.

"_You're a long way from home_."

He walked back to the control panel, slow, unable to force his feet to go faster. He needed his staff. He needed his clarity. He needed Thor gone.

Two buttons pressed, and at least one of those wishes was fulfilled.

/.../.../

/.../.../

AN: So I gave up on Nanowrimo. Still pretty busy, but oh well. Have a pretty chapter. Things will only be getting more AU from here on out. Don't expect every chapter to be as long as this one, though. Because no.

Reviews are much appreciated, always.


	5. Chapter 5

It was easy, closing the hatch when Thor had fallen. He knew Thor wouldn't die. Not at this height. Loki had fallen into a Void, fallen for what had felt like an eternity, and still had not been granted oblivion.

"You're gonna lose."

At first he thought it was the voice, but of course not. The only reason he kept on thinking that was because the things that this agent said were so like the whispers of his weaker side.

A part of him wanted to ask the agent why he thought Loki would lose, but he knew, once again, that the voice could tell him that.

"_You'll lose because you don't want to win, because a part of you never stopped screaming even if you tried to ignore it, because you hate this violence, because you don't want to rule. You'll lose because you want to. Because Thanos may have you in his grasp, but that doesn't mean you belong to him_."

Glorious victory, Loki reminded himself. He loved to do the will of Thanos, and what he was doing was right, so he would do it and he would succeed. He knew he would.

"What is your name?" Loki asked the agent.

"Phil Coulson," the agent responded. "Make any difference?"

"The hawk mentioned you," Loki said.

He had been fond of this agent, then, and would be mad at Loki now. Loki swallowed. The man could still live. If he survived, then Clint might still forgive Loki.

But thinking like this was ridiculous. There was nothing to forgive. Loki was merely doing what he had to. He was doing nothing wrong.

"_He won't forgive it. He won't forgive your attacks on his friends, killing his fellow agents. He certainly won't forgive your enslaving him, Loki. Do you think you would ever be such a fool as to forgive Thanos_?"

Loki didn't hate Thanos.

"_No?_"

The voice was stupid.

Loki turned to the door. It was time to find Clint and leave the helicarrier. He would be glad indeed to leave it behind. Though this stage of his plan had been necessary, and meeting the woman Natasha had been interesting, there was little else to hold his attention in the place. An overly drab hunk of Midgardian technology, that was what it was.

Bang.

An explosion threw Loki forward and straight through a wall. Sharp pain flared in his head and back. He gritted his teeth to stop himself from screaming. A prince of Asgard did not scream.

When he pulled himself up he saw that Coulson had passed out, but there was a suspiciously smug smile on his face. A true warrior, that one. Perhaps he would indeed survive. And now, Loki found himself unashamed to admit that he hoped it would be so.

"_Aw, you really do care, don't you?_"

Typical of the voice to attack him whenever vulnerable.

He ignored the lingering pain in his body (a powerful weapon for a mortal)and set forth to retrieve his staff. In the chaos, the room where it lay had been left unguarded except for two agents with nothing but guns, and it was easy to knock them out. Enough death for one day without even more casualties.

He had not held the staff in what seemed like ages (how long had it been? Hours? Days?) and the second he picked up he felt a sense of overwhelming relief. The voice, which had been blaring ever since Stuttgart, quieted down to a manageable murmur. The pain in his body seemed to fade as well.

The pain he had felt over the agent, and those hurt in this attack, faded as well. They were acceptable sacrifices. He did what had to be done for his master. And those words weren't just a platitude; they were true. Clutching the staff in both hands at once, they were true.

He smiled. His lips were dry (he hadn't drunk anything since arriving on the helicarrier) and he was tired but he still smiled. The next phase would begin soon, very soon. He was sure Thanos (no doubt watching from planets away in the manner of Heimdall or Odin) was pleased with his progress.

He stalked through the hallways now, his posture tall and proud like the conqueror he was. There were a few mortals around him, but with a couple flashes of magical power (almost like lightning, though he would have denied that) they were sent scurrying away. His path was clear.

His path was clear, at least, until he came upon two agents he found very familiar.

The first, crouched in his way with a knife in each hand, Natasha Romanoff. The woman knew enough to attack him with knives rather than a gun, at least-unless it were a strange machine like Coulson's, a gun would do little good.

The second, sprawled unconscious behind her, his hawk.

"What did you do to him?" Loki hissed.

"Nothing he wouldn't have approved of," Natasha said. Her eyes barely seemed to blink, they were so focused on Loki. And who was she to knock his hawk around and say he would approve? Her arrogance brought a tightness to Loki's throat.

He lifted the staff to shoot a blue bolt straight at her chest. She ducked to dodge. The bold hit the ground in an explosion, a few bits of debris almost hitting Clint.

Loki would have to be more careful if he wanted to bring her down without injuring his hawk in the process.

Luckily, it seemed Natasha was having the same thought. She lunged straight at Loki, angling away from Clint. Loki, who approved of distancing the battle from his hawk but was not in the mood to be knocked to the floor, teleported a meter or so backward from his current position. The assassin almost fell down, but instead she regained her balance and used the floor to flip over into an upright position. She lunged at him again with her knives, but he was ready and now far enough away from Clint to stand his ground.

He sidestepped her thrust, grabbed an arm, and flipped her over onto her stomach. He then stepped down hard on her back and leaned down. Touching her head, he murmured a quick spell for sleep and waited for her body to completely slump before stepping off her.

He would have liked to gut her then and there for hurting his hawk, but he had a feeling the hawk himself would object to that.

"_The way you've been trying to please him lately it's as if you have two masters instead of one_."

Loki didn't have any masters at all.

Two SHIELD agents unconscious on the ground. What a mess. Not that there weren't unconscious agents scattered all over the helicarrier after this attack, but he happened to care about these two. Well, he would sort the matter of the spider out later. For now, he hefted the hawk over his shoulder (not so difficult-mortals were ridiculously light) and headed towards the entrance to the helicarrier. There his servants awaited him, prepared to carry him back to their lair.

/…/…/

Clint did not awake for a long time, and Loki was left wondering what Natasha had done to him. Simply knocking him out should not have kept him down for so long.

When he did awaken, it was a slow process. Twice he awoke, even mumbled something, only to slump back onto his bed. (He slept now on the one Loki had conjured for him.) Once he mumbled Natasha's name in his half conscious state, once Loki's. And yet, speaking Loki's name brought a crease to his brow and he stirred restlessly. Loki wondered if even in his sleep he desired to return to his master.

"Rest if you must, hawk," he murmured. He did what healing he could upon the hawk's head, where he assumed Natasha had hit him to leave him in such a state. And yet healing alone did not wake the man.

Alas, he could not stay by his hawk's side. There was work to be done, much work, to create the portal and open the way for the Chitauri.

"_Nasty creatures. You don't want them on Midgard anyways_."

What Loki's master wanted was what he wanted.

"_I know better than to fall for that nonsense, even if you don't_."

And Loki did enjoy the work, really, he did get enjoyment out of fulfilling his master's commands. Nevertheless, he was relieved when an agent informed him that Clint had awoken, and he had an excuse to leave his work reviewing the plans for the portal with Selvig.

Clint was sitting up on the bed by the time Loki got to him, and he stared at Loki as if he could see right through him. Glanced at the agent to Loki's side, then back to Loki.

"I am glad to see you are well, my hawk," Loki said.

Clint licked his lips and shifted back on the bed. Closer to the headboard, further from Loki.

Loki frowned. "Is something wrong? You are safe now. I carried you out of the helicarrier myself. No one will harm you, my hawk. Why are you distraught?"

The hawk wouldn't stop staring at him. Loki stepped closer. He sat down on the bed next to him and reached out a hand. He wasn't sure if he meant to take the hawk's hand, stroke his head or pat his shoulder-all of which were stupid, coddling actions anyways-but he never ended up touching Clint anyways. Because Clint strained away from him, pressing his back hard against the headboard. His breath came out in pants.

Loki stood.

"I won't touch you. Calm yourself. Tell me what is wrong."

The strangest sound came out of Clint's throat. Loki wasn't sure if it was a growl or a whimper. "Loki."

"Yes," Loki said. "It's me, Clint."

A mumbled word. Loki couldn't quite catch it. That was saying something, considering Loki had the hearing of an Aesir…or a Jotun.

"_Not so sharp recently, though, are you? Ever since you met Thanos you've been faltering_."

This was not the time to listen to the voice.

"What was that?" he asked, restraining himself from leaning closer.

"Monster," Clint snarled. His head snapped up to glare at Loki. His eyes were wild. And that was how Loki finally pinpointed what was off.

Clint's eyes were still blue. But they were blue naturally, and the blue they were currently was a watery, wild blue, not the calm, clear blue reflected in Loki's own eyes. No wonder the hawk was so frantic. He had lost his clarity, though who knew how?

"_Good for him. If you find out how he threw it off, perhaps you should follow his example_."

No. There was no way this could be good for Clint. Loki bit his lip. What would be best would be to return the hawk's clarity immediately. That would calm his mind and make him stop being afraid of Loki. Then he would be fine.

"_Fine? You call it fine to be enslaved. Don't touch him, Loki. Don't you dare_."

His hand trembled on the staff. He couldn't bring himself to lift it, to touch Clint's chest, to do what he needed to do. How could he do it, when Clint looked so afraid?

Small steps, Loki decided. He would explain to Clint what he was going to do. That would calm Clint down, and from there it would be much easier.

"_I doubt it. He'd probably commit suicide before he'd allow your filthy claws in his head again_."

"Clint," Loki said. He took a deep breath. "It would appear that somehow that spider ripped the staff's power from your mind. I can understand why that would upset you. The world has taken on its confusing shape again, hasn't it?" He lifted the staff slightly, just an inch or so from the floor. "It will be all right. I…I can make things clear again."

He sounded as if he were the servant, begging for Clint's approval, Clint's permission. It wasn't right. Loki was Clint's guide. He was meant to be in charge, meant to rule.

"_Don't be ridiculous. You've always been quick to bow_."

Clint was silent for a moment. His entire body was shaking. Instability, no doubt, with the staff's influence gone. Perhaps even fear. The world with no master could be terrifying.

He gritted his teeth, spoke. "No, Loki."

Loki blinked.

And suddenly, he felt like the floor had disappeared from underneath him. His balance was gone and no matter how hard he gripped the staff, it wasn't coming back.

He was falling.

"No, Loki?" He said. He took a step closer to Clint. No mortal would intimidate him. "You dare to refuse me?"

"I thought what you gave me was clarity. I thought it was truth," Clint said. He hopped off the bed, on the opposite side from Loki. "But I thought wrong."

"You were right."

"All you ever gave me was slavery," Clint hissed. "It was the staff that stopped me from seeing that, and your power." He reached into a pocket, a pocket where Loki knew he kept his knives. "I will not be a slave again."

The knives didn't frighten Loki.

"_But the words. Those chill you_."

"You were never a slave," Loki said. "You served of your own will. Because you could see the truth!"

"You took my will from me!" Clint shouted. He pulled out a knife and flung it at Loki.

Loki dodged.

"Are you trying to justify yourself?" Clint screamed. He threw another knife. This one went so wide that Loki didn't even have to dodge. "You're a monster! You're sick! I would never choose to follow you!"

Loki didn't need a voice to tell him that Clint was right.

He let the end of the staff rest on the ground. He felt so drained. He clutched the staff harder but it gave him no strength. Why wouldn't it help him? It needed to tell him what to do, like it always did.

And the blue did whisper, in the back of his mind. It didn't usually need to whisper, but it would condescend to fulfill Loki's needs.

"_The hawk is a fool. Take him under your power again, and he will obey you again, like it or not_."

But Loki wanted the old Clint back, the hawk who loved him unconditionally, who would have followed him to the ends of the Nine Realms. He didn't want a slave.

"_Then kill him. He won't be what you want_."

"You're sick," Clint repeated. He pulled another knife out, but his hands were trembling and his throw missed almost as badly as the last one. "I will never serve you again."

Loki stared at the tip of the staff where it rested on the ground. Funny that it was so light, and yet weighed on his mind so heavily.

"Well?" Clint said. "Did you hear me? I'll never serve you again. I hate you. You're pathetic, and what you're doing is wrong. I'll have no part in it."

"Then leave."

Loki's head hurt. The world before his eyes seemed to have two tints, blue and green, wobbling back and forth and never staying in the same spot. He could hear no voices, not even the hawk's, but only a ringing echo, the sort of bell one would hear in Asgard at high noon.

"What?"

"I said leave. You heard me, didn't you? Has my hawk gone deaf?"

"I'm not your hawk!"

Loki hated Clint's voice. He vaguely remembered liking it once, taking comfort in its friendly lilt. But he couldn't remember why.

"You've made that abundantly clear. So leave." He looked up and met the hawk's eyes, so watery and wild. He wondered what his own eyes looked like. Blue, perhaps, when they should have been red with fatigue. "If you do not wish to follow me, you are not welcome here."

Clint gaped at him. "That's it? You're going to let me go? Just like that?"

"I said," Loki said, raising the staff. "Get out."

Power built in the staff. It glowed blue. Loki could feel the rush vibrating in his body, and lightning wasn't usually his style but he thought this time a nice blast of it would be fun.

But the hawk was moving. Walking, at first slowly, then quicker, and then running at full speed towards the door. He brushed against another agent's shoulder and nearly knocked him to the floor, but the other agent didn't mind. The staff's power made him content.

When Clint was gone, and had been gone for long minutes, Loki sat down on the edge of the bed. He considered sleeping. But that was foolishness.

Thanos wanted the portal open, the Chitauri unleashed on the city, the Tesseract delivered.

Loki had wasted too much time.

/.../.../

AN: In case you hadn't noticed, I love working with the Clint-Loki dynamic. So I greatly enjoyed writing this chapter.

Reviews are much appreciated, always.


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